


A Very Close Second

by InuShiek



Category: MTMTE - Fandom, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Collars, Genital Piercing, Leashes, M/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, Piercings, Slash, Sticky, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/pseuds/InuShiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet and Drift are testing out the racer's newest piercing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Close Second

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CerysKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerysKitty/gifts).



> Ceryskitty made [this post](http://ceryskitty.tumblr.com/post/120558666223/also-i-dont-think-its-been-talked-about-much-but) and I had to try to write a thing. It took me forever and it's embarrassingly short compared to what I had planned, but yes. Yes.

“How is it today?” Ratchet asks, reaching for Drift’s helm.

Drift leans away, pulling his glossa back further into his mouth. The way the medic inspects the new jewelry every day is embarrassing….. Not that Drift really minds…. Or that he has a choice.

Ratchet wraps the leash around his fist and pulls Drift back in close. With how the racer is gagged and harnessed up on his knees with his arms bound, there isn’t anything he can do other than follow the pull of the leash. “Give me your glossa,” he orders.

With his faceplates heating, Drift obeys. He squirms as Ratchet grasps his glossa gently and a digit traces his newest piercing.

“Hmm, it still looks nice,” the medic hums, still outlining the piercing with a finger. “And it has been more than double the required healing time…”

Drift looks questioningly up at Ratchet, his plating heating further when he feels drool slip past his dermas. Shifting on his knees, the racer’s charge rises a bit in excitement. Ratchet hasn’t let him suck his spike since he got this new jewelry- maybe tonight he’ll-

Ratchet moves quickly, smirking at the way Drift’s optics widen in surprise at suddenly having a light chain attached to his glossa ring. The bound bot reflexively pulls his glossa back into his mouth, and Ratchet lets him, electing instead to keep his grip on the leash attached to the collar. While Drift adjusts, wriggling his glossa within his gagged mouth at the odd sensation, Ratchet carefully threads the long chain through a hole in his seat and brings it up so that it’s easily accessible to him, but he doesn’t apply any tension to the chain yet.

“Weren’t expecting that?” he teases, petting Drift’s helm with a servo.

Drift leans into the touch before he shakes his helm, and that sets the chain hanging from his glossa ring to swinging. He shivers at the sensation- almost tickling- before Ratchet withdraws his servo. After a brief whine at the loss, the racer cautiously allows his glossa to extend once more in the hopes of enticing Ratchet to stop teasing him. He watches as Ratchet’s optics follow the motion and darken, and Drift smiles around his gag.

Two can play at that game.

Ratchet keeps his hold on Drift’s collar so that the bot can’t jerk backwards and hurt himself as he grasps the chain and gently tugs on it. The bot gasps in surprise as he’s pulled forward and down by his glossa, closer to the chair and Ratchet’s crotch. His glossa pulls back in reflex at first, and Ratchet waits for him to override the action and follow the pull.

Catching on quickly, Drift’s engine revs loudly as he shuffles further forward on his knees and extends his glossa. Eager to begin, the bound mech exhales hotly across Ratchet’s panel.

Ratchet tightens his hold on both of the leads before he opens his panel, and his spike bumps into Drift’s faceplates. Without even having to prompt him, Drift shifts so that his mouth is lined up to take the medic’s spike. “Good boy,” Ratchet praises, releasing the leash attached to his collar to pat the mech’s helm.

Drift’s optics darken at the praise, and he resists the urge to take Ratchet’s spike into his mouth without permission. He does, however, wriggle his glossa, testing out the capabilities of his new jewelry against the underside of Ratchet’s spike.

Content watching Drift squirm and wait for permission, Ratchet enjoys the sensation of a glossa working against his spike. The ring through his glossa is certainly a nice addition, providing a hard point of stimulating contact in contrast to Drift’s soft, wriggling glossa. It may be even nicer than the symmetrical rows of piercings on Drift’s valve lips….

Ratchet remembers the time that he had slid several small vibrating toys into Drift’s valve and then threaded a thin chain through the piercings. He’d locked the chain to itself and effectively sealed Drift’s valve closed around the toys, allowing the medic to torment Drift with intermittent vibrations over the course of nearly a week before the racer had broken down into desperate grinding, incoherently begging for an overload.

Okay, the glossa ring is a close second. Unless….

The idea of tying Drift’s glossa ring to his valve’s jewelry crosses Ratchet’s imagination, and he groans. It wouldn’t take long for the racer to cover himself in drool, and Ratchet could easily shorten the distance over time, increasing Drift’s flexibility to the point where the mech’s spike would be lodged within his own mouth.

With his charge spiking at these thoughts, Ratchet steadily pulls on the chain.

Drift groans in pleasure as he’s finally allowed to swallow Ratchet’s spike- a sensation he’d missed while his piercing healed. He pauses, swallowing and intending to slide back up Ratchet’s spike before he presses forward again, but Ratchet has a different idea.

Ratchet holds the chain firmly, allowing Drift to only pull back as far as his glossa can stretch. Once it’s clear that Drift realizes that he’s on a short leash, the medic pulls the chain further, forcing Drift to take more and more of his spike as he does.

Struggling for a moment to relax his throat, Drift pulls against his bindings until he can settle and comfortably take Ratchet’s spike to the base.

“There’s a good boy,” Ratchet praises again before he ties the chain off, trapping Drift. The bound mech sees his out of the corners of his optics and turns his gaze questioningly up to Ratchet. “I’ve got some file work to do, and I’d hate for you to be bored. You just sit tight and don’t forget to swallow every so often. I’d hate for you to make a mess of me and my chair, Drift.”

Drift nearly chokes in surprise, pulling back as far as the chain will allow before he gives in and presses forward until his nose is nearly flattened against Ratchet’s plating. This allows him to pull his glossa nearly completely into his mouth and slurp up his drool as was suggested.

This earns the racer a pat to the helm before Ratchet turns on a data pad. Engine revving quietly, Drift’s valve clenches as he settles in for a long evening of swallowing Ratchet’s spike.


End file.
